


#Untitled

by Mr Comatose (PotterWhoLockLin)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Adorable, Baby, Caring!Dean, Catboy Castiel, Catboys & Catgirls, Fluff, Kitten, M/M, No Smut, Shota Castiel, So fluffy you'll die, owner!dean, teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:11:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterWhoLockLin/pseuds/Mr%20Comatose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Dean gets a little pet catboy called Cas. Utter fluff. No smut because...nope. Seriously, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#Untitled

Dean Winchester liked his apartment. It was a cosy two-bed on the fifth floor of his apartment block, open-plan, and had a bathroom with an actual bath in it (not something all apartments could boast). He'd lived in it for a year and a half. Recently, though, Dean had begun to fell that his little slice of heaven was...well...lacking.

At first he'd thought that maybe he needed a change of scenery. He'd gone to the nearest Walmart and browsed through hundreds of new beds and chairs, before he realised that the decor wasn't the problem. Luckily, this was before he'd payed.

Then he thought that maybe he needed some company. So he invited as many people as would fit into his apartment and held a wild-as-hell party. He'd ended up with a police warning, a shitload of bottles to clear up, and a hangover worthy of Dionysus. It was pretty easy to decide that company was not the problem.

Except that it was. Dean wasn't lacking in human company, but what he really wanted was a pet. 

Dean spent his entire weekend (the only days he got off work) researching pet types. Goldfish were a no. They just bubbled and swam all day in their little glass bowls. Dogs were another no. Dean would love a pet that would play with you and greet you at your door, but let's be realistic: Dean lived five stories up, and the dog would have to pee eventually. Cats were also a no. Dean was incredibly allergic.

Catpeople, on the other hand...

Dean reread the sentence he'd just found.

"Catboys or girls, more commonly known as Kits, are a fairly cheap pet, and ideal for people who want company. Kits, it has been proven, do not affect cat-allergy sufferers, making them perfect for any person. Catpeople are, essentially, humans, though with cat ears and a tail, and a line of fur down their backs. They are very cat-like in nature, though they can speak (very primitively). Kits age at the same rate as humans, so anyone considering purchasing one should do so very carefully."

Perfect. 

Dean opened a new tab, searching for any new kit litters. There were several, but unfortunately none were any closer to him than by a two hour drive. Dean picked the nearest and sent them a message, asking if he could stop by the next weekend and take a look at the litter. Less than an hour later, he received a delighted reply urging him to come round whenever he liked. Satisfied, Dean turned off his laptop and climbed into bed.

Dean spent almost the whole of the next week nearly tap dancing with anticipation. He honestly couldn't fathom why he was so excited to be getting a new pet; he was acting like a damn kid. "Get a grip," he told himself fiercely. The week slowly rolled past.

On Saturday Dean got up earlier than usual, making himself a large breakfast in preparation for the drive. He carried a teetering pile of cushions down to his car, a Chevy Impala, and wedged them into the backseat to make a nest. If he did end up with a kit, he didn't want the travel cage to move around too much as he drove. He tossed a couple of water bottles from the drugstore down there too, as well as an old sheet. You just never knew.

The next two hours was a blur of dusty highways and ACDC, Dean spending most of it with his head hanging outside the car like a dog on a hot day. Boy, was he glad he brought those water bottles. Luckily he could see storm clouds on the horizon, bringing with them the promise of cooler air. Dean didn't want the kit overheating on the drive back.

Dean pulled into the yard, sending chickens flying as he crunched to a halt. He climbed up the porch steps to knock on the door. A cheerful blond woman answered it.

"Hi! You must be Dean, am I right?" she beamed at him

"Yes I am," he said, for lack of a better answer.

She motioned him inside. "Come on in, the kettle's just boiling. I'm Sharon, by the way. Fancy some coffee?"

"Nah, I'm good thanks. Had some for breakfast." Sharon led him to the back of the house.

"If you're sure dear...now, they're in here at the moment, what with it being so hot out." Dean let himself be guided into the back room.

Inside was a contraption vaguely resembling a playpen, only it was a lot taller and more firmly built. Dean guessed it was because kits were more playful than kids. A infrared bulb had been lowered over the playpen to ensure that the kits inside wouldn't get too cold.

The kits in question were all racing around inside the playpen, tumbling over each other, play-biting at each other's ears and tails, falling onto the pile in the centre to create a squirming, giggling, squeaking mess of tabby fur.

Dean couldn't help it. He felt his features pucker up into "awwww" mode.

"Now you seem to be quite the animal lover!" chuckled Sharon. "All of this lot are little boys, I'm afraid. No girls out of this batch! Would you like me to leave for a bit, let you make a choice? It's a big commitment, owning one of these cuties."

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem, honey," called Sharon as she left the room. Dean crept over to the pen slowly, so as not to frighten the kits. The Catboys slowly ceased their play in curiosity, sniffing the air to identify the new man. Evidently they liked Dean's smell, for they all clamoured around the bars closest to him, vying for attention. They were all pretty small; the biggest, at the front, was only about as high as Dean's thigh. A chorus of squeaks when he hovered his hand over them nearly deafened him.

Suddenly, Dean's attention was caught by a little kit at the back, with black ears and a tail, rather than tabby like his brothers'. He seemed shyer, a little less exuberant than his siblings, but excited to see this stranger nonetheless. He was also the smallest, his ears would probably just brush Dean's knee.

Deciding he liked the look of this kit, Dean reached out a hand to him. He immediately sniffed it enthusiastically. Emboldened by this welcome, Dean wrapped his hands around the kits tiny waist and drew him to his chest, producing an indignant squeak from the boy. He, like all the other Catboys, wore a pair of tiny pair of navy, drawstring shorts, and nothing else. As the kit tried to struggle, Dean trapped him in the hold that the website had demonstrated, so he could check him over. Clean everywhere, and his fur was spotless. The kit let out a restless whimper, and Dean absentmindedly scratched between his ears. He was surprised to be rewarded by a purr.

Sharon came back in to the sight of Dean rocking the purring kit gently in his arms like a baby. She smiled. "Well it looks like you found one you like!"

"Yeah, I did." Dean answered, plopping the protesting kit back into the pen. "Can I take him home today? I have cash," he added, sensing the question before it was asked.

"Well that's fine!" Dean doubted he'd ever seen a grin wider. "Castiel here is all vaccinated, de-wormed, and flea-free. Do you have a carry-case?"

"Uh, no." Despite his frantic rush for things that morning, Dean had just assumed that one would be provided.

"That's absolutely fine, you can have one for free." Dean gave a mental sigh of relief. "There's just one thing, though..."

"Yes?" Asked Dean pensively.

"Did you drive far to get here?"

"Yeah, I did. Took me two hours." Ok, Dean was definitely beginning to feel nervous.

"Well then..." Sharon shifted awkwardly. "We might have a teensy bit of a problem..."

"What is it?" Dean cut across. Please, please just get to the point...

"Kits aren't really a fan of cars. They don't like the noise, especially. I had a kit, once..."

"So what can I do about it?" 

Sharon passed Dean a small packet. "There's a sleeping pill in here. Mash it up with a little food, and he'll wolf it down in seconds. It's the cat equivalent to anaesthetics," she added with yet another smile, when confronted with Dean's bemused face. "Here - why don't you go and wait in the front room, while if get this little one into a cage?"

"Uh, sure," Dean replied. "Hey, what did you say his name was again?"

"Castiel," Sharon called over her shoulder, busily attempting to catch the right kit. Dean followed his nose till he found he front room.

He sat awkwardly on the sofa for a while, mulling over his new catboy's name to distract himself from the crashes and meows that drifted through from the back. Castiel...he should shorten it. Cassie...Cas? Yeah, Cas was good. Dean liked that.

Presently Sharon returned, a wire cage under one arm. There was a pillow at the bottom, and on the pillow Cas was spinning around, clawing at the bars, and rolling over to have his tummy tickled. Dean broke into a grin at the sight.

"He's a little frisky," Sharon said, setting the cage down on the coffee table. Cas gave a little sigh and curled up on the pillow, his tail curled tightly around his body like a real cat. His little black ears flickered as he let out a contented snore. "He's never been without his brothers before."

"Is there anything I need to sign?" Dean asked, noticing the sheaf of papers tucked under Sharon's arm.

"Just this one," she replied, extracting a single sheet and passing it to him. A photo of Cas was stapled to the top, evidently taken just after he had woken up. His sleep-filled blue eyes gazed bemusedly up at Dean from the photo, his little mouth opened wide in a yawn. He was adorable. "It's the ownership document."

Dean signed the paper. "Great, you're all set!" Sharon beamed. "Do you need a hand taking him out to your car?"

"I'm good, thanks," Dean said, taking the documents from her and wedging them under one arm. He picked up the cage, and Cas immediately tried to throw himself through the bars at him, now apparently wide awake. "Thank you very much for your time, ma'am."

"Oh it's no bother, no bother at all," Sharon twittered, guiding Dean to the front door. 

Dean made his way down the porch, gripping the cage tightly. Cas was scampering around inside, taking big sniffs of the outdoor air, and all of its brand new smells. Sharon shut the door behind him.

Dean carefully settled the cage in the back seat, and Cas whined, ears going flat. With a certain amount of trepidation, Dean got into the front seat, and started the engine.

The effect was instantaneous; the second the car roared into life, pathetic (but unfortunately loud) mewls and howls came from the back seat, and Cas curled into a sobbing, whining ball. Dean turned off the engine and he perked up instantly, ears flicking forward. Dean grabbed the sheet from the floor of his car and draped it over the cage, drowning out the indignant squeals from inside. Hopefully Cas would be quiet in there until he could find a gas station to get some food.

The sound of crying and whimpering tailed Dean for half an hour, until he finally found the gas station he'd passed on the way to Sharon's. He pulled in, and the second the engine was off the kit stopped yowling. Dean locked the car, and strode into the station.

He emerged a few minutes later with a small paper dish and a tin of tuna. Dean dolloped some tuna into the dish (Cas struck up a chorus of mewls at the smell) and crumbled Sharon's sleeping pill into it, mixing it up well. He reached into the back and lifted the sheet, laughing at the kits eager, tear-stained face. Dean unlatched the cage, and pushing Cas back with one hand to prevent him from escaping, and inserting the dish with the other. He pulled both hand back and re locked the door, sitting down to wait.

Cas fell on the tuna and gobbled it down, getting it all over himself. Within two minutes, he was sound asleep, curled up into a ball and wrapped in his tail. Dean removed the dish and replaced the sheet.

Dean drove for another hour and a half, and just before he arrived at his apartment, Cas began to wake up.

It started out as a few whimpers, before bursting into fully-fledged crying. Dean slowed and parked, turning off the engine, but the meows continued. Dean grabbed the cage and the papers, deciding to leave the cushions there a little while longer. What harm could a cushion do? He left the sheet on, hoping that it would muffle Cas's howls.

Dean juggled both papers and cage up five flights of steps, before eventually coming to his door. He balanced the cage with his left hand as he fumbled for his keys, taking care not to let it overbalance. He finally found the right key, and let them both in. Dumping the papers on the coffee table, he set the cage gently on the floor. Sounds still came from it. Then slowly, so he wouldn't scare Cas, Dean pulled off the sheet.

Cas was absolutely covered in tuna; Dean couldn't see how it was possible for a small kit to coat himself so completely in the substance. He was backed, sobbing, against the back of the cage, tear-streaked face turned towards Dean, big blue eyes welling with fresh tears. Dean opened the door cautiously, and Cas squeaked and huddled further back.

"Shhh, Cas," Dean muttered, reaching towards him. "I'm Dean, ok? Your owner. This is your new home." When Cas didn't make any move towards him, Dean just reached forwards and scooped him up. Cas squealed and struggled, trying to push away. Dean hushed him, rocking him gently. A reluctant purr broke through the sobs.

"Hey, that's better, isn't it?" Dean said, stroking the soft, dark hair between the kits ears. "Can you say my name, Cas? Can you say 'Dean'?"

"Dean," Cas mumbled, hiccuping. Dean cradled him gently to his chest.

"C'mon, buddy. We need to get you cleaned up." Dean carried Cas into the bathroom. He plopped the kit onto a stack of towels while he shut the door and began running a bath, making sure to use plenty of bubbles. He turned round to find Cas busily stalking a rubber duck, ears twitching in concentration, tail slashing through the air. Dean burst out laughing, startling the kit. He ran his hand from the catboy's ears to his tail, eliciting a purr. Dean stood up, Cas gathered to his chest, and turned off the taps.

He pulled off the kits shorts, preparing to lower him into the bath, when suddenly Cas gave a howl and tried to climb away from the water. 

"No! No!" he cried, bursting into a fresh bout of tears, ears flag against his head. "Don't like it! No!"

"Hey, shhhh, bud. What's wrong?" Dean asked, his heart sinking.

"Don't like it!" Cas wailed, burying his head in Dean's chest.

"Ok, Cas, ok. How about we put a duck in there too, huh? C'mon, you won't be in there long," Dean pleaded. "I've gotta get you clean before you go to sleep." Slowly, Cas nodded.

Dean carefully lowered Cas into the bath. The kit wrinkled his nose at the feel of the water, kicking his feet. A few whimpers emerged as he accidentally splashed himself, and Dean stroked his ears soothingly. Eventually the little catboy was fully in the water, bubbles rising up to his chest. Cas attempted to sniff one, and sneezed loudly. He looked astonished.

Dean scooped water over Cas with cupped hands, ignoring the kits whines. "Don't fuss so much Cas. This is how you get clean." Eventually he'd washed Cas clean of tuna. "All right, you're done. Let's get you out."

Once Cas was out the bath,a Dean wrapped his tiny body in a fluffy white towel. He looked so cute, with his ears poking out of the front, and a bemused expression on his face. "Hold still, Cas," he said, freeing his phone from his pocket. "I'm gonna take a picture, 'kay?" 

Cas blinked at the flash, but stood stock still while the picture was taken. Dean dried his ears with the ends of the towel, then rubbed down the rest of him. He re-wrapped the kit like a baby in swaddling clothes and lifted him up, one hand supporting his back, the other under his butt. Dean carried him into the bedroom.

He placed Cas on the bed. "Wait there a minute," he called to the kit, who was attempting to struggle free from the mountain of towel he was trapped in. Dean grabbed a small wicker basket from the kitchen, the one he usually put washed clothes in. That would do for a bed. He returned to the bedroom to find that Cas had freed his head, his dark hair tousled and his ears sticking up through the hair at right-angles. Dean put the basket on the floor next to his bed, placing a pillow inside. As an afterthought, he tucked a blanket in there as well.

Dean stood up just as Cas managed to topple free of his towel. Dean chuckled, picking Cas up and cuddling him. The kit gave a happy snuffle and snuggled into his arms. Dean walked quietly over to the wardrobe, looking for something his kit could wear until he'd washed his clothes. There - an old T-shirt. Perfect. Dean manoeuvred the happily snoring kit into the too-big shirt, before tenderly placing him into his basket, and pulling the blanket over him.

Tired after the trials of his day (though it was only six o'clock) Dean crawled into bed, and went to sleep.


End file.
